


guess i'm not enough, like you used to think

by dannydevito



Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Worship, Crying, M/M, a lot of crying :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29434392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dannydevito/pseuds/dannydevito
Summary: post chapter 5"I’m not Niege,” Vil cuts him off harshly, voice cracking on his own words. “I’m- I’m not him.”
Relationships: Rook Hunt/Vil Schoenheit
Comments: 5
Kudos: 70





	guess i'm not enough, like you used to think

**Author's Note:**

> [title](https://youtu.be/K09_5IsgGe8) taken from run by joji
> 
> its meant to be a vday fic but its like. just crying. yeah

Rook stared at Vil’s back, walking just slightly in front of him, away from him. It was a few hours after the VDC had ended and they had only now just gotten the chance to break away from the event. The first years had offered to speak to Crowley about what had happened, insisted that Vil go to his room to get some sleep and volunteered the hunter to accompany him, not that Rook would’ve argued against it. Vil just stood there for the whole conversation, listening to them, lips pressed in a thin line but offered no words, no real reaction beyond a jerky nod of his head before turning on his feet, making his way towards where their dorm was, Rook wordlessly following him. 

The silence between them was deafening, so awkward and stilted, so not like how they usually were together. Rook frowned at Vil’s back, so close yet so far from him, for the first time ever unsure of what to say to his queen. He wasn’t stupid, he knew the reason behind the tense atmosphere, knew it was because of him. Rook can’t shake the look of hurt and betrayal on Vil’s face from his head, the sound of him crying still ringing in his ears. Rook’s chest feels heavy with guilt, desperately wishes Vil would lash out at, scream at him, _anything_ but this tense silence. 

All too soon they end up at Vil’s door and usually there wouldn’t even be a question about if Rook was staying the night but now, he’s not sure, he’s not sure of where he stands with Vil at all, if Vil wants to properly talk things out or just wants to be left alone. The thought of leaving Vil alone tonight leaves him stricken, just thinking of Vil all alone, his own mind the only thing keeping him company, tearing himself up with his dark thoughts, hurting himself even more. Vil opens the door with a soft click, pushing the door open but making no move to step past the threshold, turning back to look at Rook for what felt like the first time in hours, face carefully devoid of any emotion, head cocked just the slightest, silently asking Rook was he coming in. 

Rook opens his mouth for the first time since they left the others, almost stumbling over his own words, desperate to say something,  _anything,_ before Vil changed his mind and tried to kick Rook out. “Let me draw you a bath, Roi-du-Poison, it will help soothe your sore muscles.”

Vil just hums, waiting for Rook to step in to their room before him, closing the door softly behind them. Rook immediately goes into the  ensuite , his movements rushed, the fear of being Vil rejecting him and sending him away making him antsy. Rook gets the bath ready, adding in all of Vil’s favorite salts and oils to the warm water, just how the dorm leader likes it. Rook can hear Vil shuffle about their bedroom, guessing he’s taking his make up off from the muffled sounds. Rook leans over taking a peak through the open door to find Vil sitting at his vanity doing exactly that. 

Rook watched Vil’s back for a moment, watched the almost robotic way he moved, as if on autopilot, a shell of his usual self. Rook chews worriedly on his lower lip, debating with himself if he should go over to Vil or not, knows on some level he should give Vil a few moments on own, give him a chance to collect his own thoughts but the more selfish and impatient part of Rook _desperately_ wants to know what Vil is thinking of, wants to know how to make all this better. His decision is made for him when the sound of the running water filling the bath up gets quieter, less abrasive, turning back to the tub to find it almost full. Rook turns the tap off, shutting the water off before he’s rolling the sleeve of his shirt up, running his hand through the warm water before he’s dipping his elbow in, testing the temperature. Nodding to himself that it was the perfect temperature for Vil, Rook gets up, taking a deep breath before he’s making his way towards the other boy. 

“Vil,” Rook started, grabbing his queen's attention almost instantly, their eyes meeting in the shiny reflection of the mirror for just a moment before Vil looked away, gaze cold and guarded. Rook carried on, not letting the way Vil was avoiding him get to him, had expected it. “The bath is ready for you.” 

Vil just nods jerkily, undoing the braid in his hair before tying the loose strands of hair into a simple bun, before getting up, stiffly making his way towards Rook, gaze downcast, still avoiding Rook’s eyes. Without thinking Rook finds himself opening his mouth, speaking up for the first thing he can think of, frantic for any reason to stay close to Vil, to find any chance to talk to him. 

“Let me help you,” Rook offers, the smile he shoots Vil stretched thin, desperate. “It’s the least I can do.”

That gets Vil’s attention, the model stopping in his track, wide eyes flickering up to Rook, brows pinched, mouth turned downwards, looking distraught. He just nods at Rook again, he looks like he wants to say something but chooses against it, quickly closing the remaining few steps between him and the bathroom. 

Vil strips off in front of Rook, quick and efficient, back turned to Rook. Despite the circumstances Rook can’t tear his eyes from Vil, admiring every stretch of pale skin exposed to his searching eyes, the curve of Vil’s spine, the pleasant dip of his waist, the way his legs seemed to stretch on for miles. Rook found his eyes catching on a mottled bruise near the base of Vil’s neck, at the junction where his shoulder started, already fading. Rook remembers biting into Vil’s skin just this morning, the way his queen shivered in his arms, smiling down at him. It felt like a century ago, a completely different lifetime to theirs, Rook couldn’t even begin imagine Vil trusting him, opening up to him like that again.

Vil steps into the tub, sinking down slowly, letting out a quiet sigh, the first sound he’s made this night, the small noise prickling at Rook’s ears. Ignoring the painful clench in his own chest Rook kneels down next to the tub. Rook plucks up a sponge, soaping it up before running it up and down Vil’s back gently washing away the grime of the day. They stay like that, in complete silence, the only sound is the gentle lap of water hitting the side of the tub. Vil is crouched over, curled in on himself, he looks so _small_ , so fragile, so _broken_ , Rook can’t bring  himself to break the silence, knows that no matter what he’d ruin the night, ruin their relationship even more. 

“Tell me,” Vil finally whispers, voice thick, strained with barely held back tears, he’s shaking just slightly, holding himself together by a thread. Rook startles at the sound, sponge slipping from his hand, falling into the bath with a quiet splash, staring at Vil unblinkingly. “Was I just a bench warmer?”

“Wh-”

"I’m not  Niege ,” Vil cuts him off harshly, voice cracking on his own words. “I’m- I’m not  _him._ ”

Rook opens his mouth to try and speak again, heavy heart racing in his chest, stunned and confused, unable to think straight, mind stuck on what Vil just said, Vil’s words confusing him, they were  _wrong,_ they were _so_ _wrong,_ Rook couldn’t let Vil continue thinking like that. He had to _stop_ him, help him, but he didn’t know how, staring numbly at the blondes back. For the first time in Rook’s  life he felt absolutely and completely speechless. 

“Was I just convenient?” Vil asks and Rook can hear the tears in his voice, his breath wet and shaky, crying now, coughing up tired little hiccups into his folded arms. “Was I- Was I just a way to get close to him, a-” 

Rooks heard enough, grabbing the closest towel at hand, pulling Vil from the bath, shushing him as he bundles him up into the towel, carrying him across the room, back toward their bed. Vil fights him every step of the way, squirming restlessly in his arms, trying to shrug Rook off, pushing him away, all the while a steady stream cascade down his face, he looked terrified, so different from his Vil. 

Rook places Vil on the bed, crowding in over him, caging his queen in with his arm, so there was no place he could run off to, to escape to. Rook reaches up with one hand, wiping away his tears, but more and more just keep coming, it’s like the flood gates have finally opened, everything that Vil had been holding in the past month, no, everything he’d been holding in for years has come tumbling out, Rook’s actions being his breaking point, what pushed him over.

“Vil,” Rook starts, gulping down his own worries and anxieties, just focused on Vil and fixing what he’s done. Rook’s voice just makes Vil cry harder, a quiet sob tearing its way up his throat, the sound so broken, so ugly for someone as beautiful and precious like Vil. “Vil, please, you know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” Vil chokes out, voice raspy from his own tears, finally looking up at Rook, he looks so hurt, so _broken_ Rook feels his own breath catch at the look, his heart aching. “I feel like I don’t know you at all anymore.”

“You do,” Rook wheezes out, begging Vil to listen to him, leaning down to press desperate little kisses to Vil’s face, washing away his tears, his own lips trembling. “I love you, I love you so much Vil, please.”

Vil just shakes his head, clenching his eyes shut, desperately trying to block Rook out. Rook steels himself, ready to repeat himself a hundred times, a thousand times, a million times, as long as it took for Vil to believe him, to believe that he was beautiful, that he capable of being loved, Rook was willing to do almost anything to have Vil see himself how Rook saw him, to have him see the  _truth._

“I love you Vil,” Rook whispers again, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his queen’s mouth, the model pressing back, body instinctively seeking out the intimacy, the physical comfort. “I love you so much, more than you could ever imagine.” 

Rook presses another kiss to Vil’s lips, his mouth tastes salty, stained with his own tears. Vil kisses back, almost desperately, shaking fingers tangling into the strands of Rook’s hair, pulling him in closer. Vil pulls back a moment later, another soul crushing sob bubbling up his throat, leaving gasping, almost on the brink of a panic attack. 

“You don’t,” Vil whispers, voice so quiet, barely audibly above the blood rushing through Rook’s ears, his own heart racing so loud inside him with adrenaline. “You couldn’t, I’m not him I can’t-”

“Shhh,” Rook shushes him with another kiss, two, three kisses, all chaste, soft little things, so, _so desperate_ to show Vil how wrong he is. “I love you, my queen, my Roi-du-Poison, my beautiful Vil, let me show you.”

Rook presses down against those soft lips again, licking the seam of his lips, tongue tingling with the salt water of Vil’s tears, his queen opening up beneath him with a gasp, fingers twisted into his hair, pulling hard enough to hurt but Rook ignores it, ignores it all in favor for showing Vil how much he loves him, tangling their tongues together, breathing every distraught cry Vil lets out, taking in all the hurt and pain he caused. “It’s only been  you, it’s always been just you Vil, I’ll show you.”

Rook drags his mouth against Vil’s again, kissing him properly, his hands come up to cup Vil’s beautiful face, holding him so gentle, so careful, licking against Vil so sweetly, trying to put every single emotion tearing through his body like a hurricane into the soft touch, he’s never been so desperate for Vil to understand him in his life. Rook pulls back to press incessant kisses everywhere he can, from Vil’s trembling eye lids, to his tacky flushed cheeks, red nose, creased brow, all over his face, lips moving whispering a quiet “je t’aime,” between every kiss. Vil whimpers at each whispered word, clutching Rook in closer, shaking his head just so, still disbelieving. No matter, Rook has all the time in the world to make Vil believe him. 

Rook makes his way down Vil’s body, brushing his lips against his skin, still pink and warm from the bath, beneath him. His teeth are sharp as the bite down against the fading bruise from this morning, sucking on it till Vil moans out, a choked off pleased little hitched breath escaping his mouth, echoing around in Rook’s ear, so hungry to hear more, to hear more of Vil’s pleasure, anything to escape the  heart-breaking tears from earlier. 

Rook continues his journey down Vil’s body, trailing his lips everywhere, pressing tender kisses against him, imprinting his love into Vil, coaxing Vil to _believe_ him. "You’re so lovely,” Rook murmurs, mouth brushing against the quivering muscles of Vil’s stomach, pressing another wet kiss to the soft skin before continuing. “The most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

Vil just whines out at his words, pressing his face into the pillow, hiding himself, but body arching up into Rook’s touch, at war with himself. Rook hums and continues his path till he reaches Vil’s trembling thighs, trailing biting kisses into the sensitive skin, nibbling at the pale skin, leaving his mark on Vil, his own reminder for his queen of his possessive love for him, when he looks back at this night all he’ll be able to remember is the pleasure Rook gave him and not all the hurt he caused. 

Rook reaches for the bottle of lube they always keep tucked into the bedside table, slicking his fingers up before he reaches down to Vil’s entrance. He opens Vil up with skilled fingers, quick and efficient, not interested in teasing Vil tonight like usual, he just wants Vil to feel good, wants to replace the hurt that’s destroying him with nothing but pleasure. Once Vil starts to shift his hips impatiently, arching his back, sighing softly Rook knows he’s ready. He pulls his fingers out, wiping them against the towel from earlier before he makes quick work of his own clothes, stripping off so he can he feel Vil’s skin to his, so they can be so close as possible, no barriers between them, no more lies, no more hidden truths, just the two of them together, like they’re meant to be. 

Rook sits up pulling Vil into his lap, curling a hand around his waist, pulling him closer so their chests were flush against each other. Vil’s tears had finally stopped, staring down at Rook, his pretty purple eyes so wide, shiny with unshed tears, he looked so hopeful yet afraid at the same time, afraid that if he let himself trust Rook  again he’d just end up hurting him again. Rook wraps an arm around Vil’s neck pulling him down for another kiss, pressing in deeply, their tongues sliding against each other, breathing each other in, sparks of pleasure running through the both of them at the skin-on-skin contact, rocking against each other, every place they touch little jolts of static being created between them, the air around them sparking with the electricity they let off. 

Rook finally reaches out for the bottle of lube he dropped on the bed, slicking himself up before he’s shifting Vil in his arms, squeezing down on the soft curve of his queen's ass, guiding the tip of his cock into the puckered skin of Vil’s hole. He slides in nice and slow, letting Vil get used to stretch, makes sure he’s not hurting him, all too aware of all the stress Vil’s body had been through that day, so desperate to not hurt him ever again it _hurts_. 

Vil lets out a weak moan, clinging onto Rook, both of his hands come to rest on Rook’s shoulder, curling his fingers in, holding on tight while his legs squeeze down Rook’s sides, pressed in so close together, Rook doesn’t know where he starts and Vil begins. Rook thrusts up into Vil, a slow and steady pace, Vil rocking back into each and every thrust, whimpering so soft and sweetly at each brush of Rook’s heavy cock against his prostate, unshed tears finally spilling over.

Rook cranes his neck up, planting more reverent kisses to Vil’s face, his hand’s caressing the dip of Vi’s small waist, squeezing down, holding him, holding onto tight, never willing to let go of him again. “You’re so pretty,” Rook whisper between his kisses, eyes locked with Vil’s, delighting in the way Vil shivered at his words, leaning into his touch. “I love you, I love you so much.”

Their mouths crush against each other in another wet kiss, both so desperate for the other, for this, for the comfort they can only find in  each other's arms . 

“Again.” Vil whispers, breaking from the kiss with a shaky exhale, staring at Rook almost pleadingly, as if he’d ever have to beg Rook for anything, let alone this. Rook would lay his life down for Vil, would risk everything for the one he’s entrusted his entire heart to. “Tell me again, please.”

“I love you.” Rook whispers back, breath ghosting Vil’s shaking lips, pressing a soft kiss to Vil’s chest, right over where his beating heart is hidden, voice shaking, so raw, so full of honesty, all his dramatics stripped back for Vil, truly naked in front of him for the first time ever, “I love you so much, I love-”

“Please don’t leave me,” Vil interrupts with a sob, tilting Rook’s head back to stare into his eyes, voice so fragile, so small, so  _desperate._ “You can’t- I need-”

“I couldn’t,” Rook interrupts as well, doesn’t want to hear Vil beg like that, do something he shouldn’t have to, something that’s so beneath him. “I can’t, I can’t go on without you Vil, you’re everything.”

Rook bucks his up into Vil hard and fast, Vil groaning in his arms, so slick and tight around him, closing a fist around his dripping cock, jerking Vil off in time with the grind of his hips. It doesn’t take much for Vil to cum, tensing up around Rook, so deliciously tight Rook’s own orgasm is only seconds after, spilling deep inside Vil, murmuring quiet praises into his queen’s ear throughout it all, pressing a kiss to the hallow of his jaw, tasting the way his heart beats wildly against his chest. 

Rook presses Vil back into their bed, cuddling up to him, admiring how he seems to practically glow, so beautiful, almost otherworldly. They lay curled together, both of them catching their own breathes, staring at the other. 

“I love you.” Rook whispers, pressing another kiss to pink lips, slow and sweet. “I love you so much and I’m never leaving you.”

“Never?” Vil asked, voice so quiet, filled with worry but he grabbed on to Rook’s hand, linking their fingers together, their bodies fitting together so perfectly, squeezing down on his calloused palm 

“Never.” Rook promised, pressing a kiss to the back of Vil’s hand, dragging him in close, holding onto Vil tight, burying his face in his silky blonde hair, pressing another  absent-minded kiss to the crown of his head. 

_Never,_ Rook thought to himself, tucking his entire world in close under his chin, refusing to let go of Vil ever again. 

**Author's Note:**

> h-happy vday!!
> 
> my [twit](https://twitter.com/giornah)
> 
> my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/giornah).


End file.
